No Kind of Hunter
by Meliphyre
Summary: 17-year-old Sam seeks the help of the only person he knows who can help him get everything that he needs together for the college application process.


Bobby singer's response to the knock at his door was a string of curses and complaints. He had just spent most of the day working on a few junkers and he was cranky, hot, and balls tired. It was probably just someone with another complaint from town. Despite his effort to pretend he was not home, the knocking persisted but not aggressively. He pounded to the door and threw it open. It was the last person he expected. He looked past him and realized he was alone. The next thing he realized was he was no longer looking down at Sam Winchester. What was he now? 17?

"Hi Uncle Bobby," the young man said sheepishly.

"Sam," Bobby replied by way of greeting. He opened the door further and Sam walked in. Bobby checked again to be sure that Sam was there on his own. He muttered another curse as he shut the door behind him. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, Sam..."

"I know. I'm sorry to just drop in without calling first. I, uh, needed help with something," Sam told him. "I didn't know who else."

Annoyance was replaced with worry. "You all right kid?"

Sam nodded. "I'm fine, Uncle Bobby," he assured the older man.

"Well at least that's something," Bobby muttered. He watched Sam look around awkwardly as if trying to find an opening or the right words. In fact, everything Sam did was awkward as if he was not quite used to limbs that were suddenly too long for him. His second and third hand clothes passed down from Dean now fit him better than before. Damn, Bobby thought. John Winchester's boys were growing up too fast. "I need a drink." He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. After some rummaging, he managed to find a soda for Sam.

His house phone rang before he could return to what passed as the living room. He had a sinking feeling in his gut even before he answered. He did not even manage a hello before John Winchester began yelling about Sam missing. This was why hunters should not have children, Bobby thought. "John he's here."

Sam turned a look to him of fear and panic. Bobby lowered the phone away from his mouth. "I ain't lying to your daddy, Sam." The young man huffed and started to pace. Bobby rolled his eyes and amended his earlier thought. Sam Winchester was why hunter should not reproduce. He listened while John railed about his irresponsible youngest son, the numerous ways he could have died already, and the myriad of punishment Sam had to look forward too. In the background, he heard the same from older brother Dean, only Dean included threats to kill Sam himself. Finally, Bobby cut John off. "John he's fine… There is no need for you to drive up here… Just stay where you are and I'll send him back in the morning." He finally got his message across and hung up the phone with an explosive, "BALLS!"

Sam was now shifting from foot to foot and had paled considerably. Bobby rolled his eyes and brought him the soda. He took a long pull of his beer before asking, "What is so dammed important to bring the wrath of John and Dean Winchester down on the both of us."

The paleness of Sam's cheeks gave way to varying shades of rose from a good combination of shame, embarrassment, and a healthy dose of fear. "I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby," he muttered.

"Kid, I think you're old enough to drop the uncle crap." Bobby cleared his throat and leaned against his old battered desk. His usual gruff was not the way to deal with Sam. The kid always seemed out of place in the hunter's life not to mention in the shadow of Dean. John did never seem to grasp the simple fact that not everyone was hunter material, even when he had raised the kid in the life. If Sam needed someone to simply listen, he could be that person. "What is it, Sam?" He asked.

Sam quickly sat on the couch and began rummaging through his backpack. Hewithdrew a folder than when opened contained printouts and what Bobby recognized as college pamphlets. Sam laid them out… Penn State, Stanford, UCLA, Florida State…. Colleges on either side of the country and presumably far away from John and Dean. Sam began talking quickly. "I want to go to college, Un… Bobby. I am going to college," he amended fiercely.

"I take it you haven't told your father of this plan?"

Sam shook his head. "I tried to mention it to Dean. He laughed and took me shooting."

Bobby blew an annoyed gust of air through his lips. "Typical."

Sam took out another folder with "Financial" written in bold black. "I started applying for aid and found a few scholarships I can apply for. I've started to collect school transcripts." Those were in another folder. "My grades are good enough. Always have been. I just need to find them all," Sam said.

Bobby took another long swig of beer. He did not miss the frustration in Sam's voice. "There may be a few things I can do to speed that along," he told him. He knew Sam would not get any help from the man who had put him in this situation of having to track down school transcripts from probably every state in the goddam country.

"Really?" Sam asked with a flood of relief.

"Your daddy will kill the both of us when he finds out but I'll do what I can to get you to school." God only knew the kid deserved to have a life of his own away from hunting. Sam Winchester was no kind of hunter. "What else do you have?"

Sam rummaged through more papers and handed a very neatly typed missive. "Admissions essays," Sam said. "Would you mind reading them?"


End file.
